


Maelstrom

by Merit



Category: The Monster of Elendhaven - Jennifer Giesbrecht
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blood Kink, Bubble Bath, Clothed Sex, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Psionic Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21831103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: A storm raged in Elendhaven the night Florian sent Johann on an errand.
Relationships: Florian Leickenbloom/Johann
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Maelstrom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloriousmonsters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriousmonsters/gifts).



The storms had come to Elendhaven.

Great sheets of water pounded at the slate tiles, jagged hail bit into bodies to slow too escape and lightning flashes surrounded Elendhaven like an encroaching army. At the edges of the city, where the walls were weak and the cold crept insidiously in, whole homes were swept away with the silt, families lost between great waves of dark earth, disappearing into the wild ocean, waves higher than the crooked, abandoned mill towers.

The unearthly wind wailed, luring unsuspecting mothers out into the streets, searching for children lost years ago. The sleet and gales dragged them away from the safety of their doors, familiar roads lost as Elendhaven sank even deeper into the bedrock, the sea and sky creeping in closer. 

In the dark streets, the moon and the stars forsaken, Johann trudged through the ankle high sludge, his boots having long given up on the pretence of keeping the water at bay. The hail lashed his back like an over enthusiastic bo’sun, tearing strips through his coat, blood trickling down his skin.

Florian’s manse had the windows battened down, bar one, low to the ground and as of yet, still unbroken by the glass sharp ice that tore through the skies. The bright yellow light sang out like a forgotten song, and Johann, grunting and lowering his shoulders even further, walked deeper into the filth that Elendhaven had been built upon. It had been Florian’s idea, said knife quick, when the storm was just beginning to stir the waves into a frenzy, to send him out of this pointless errand. As if anyone in Elendhaven wandered out on a mere errand on the days the red sun disappeared into the winter waves. As if Elendhaven was more than a ghost ravaged town, clinging to life though prognosis was poor.

The front door was locked and Johann felt his lip curl, freezing as a gale blasted his face. Visitors rarely disturbed the peace of Florian Leickenbloom; and tradesmen had known their place enough to knock at the rear door. And locked! Locked on a night that screamed its impotent distress at the forbidding night sky. Locked, when Elendhaven was sinking deeper to a formless doom. 

When the door was finally forced open, slamming against the hallway with a wild thud, Johann staggered through, leaving dark footsteps against the dead forests of Elendhaven, long cut down to build the city. He paused, breathing deeply and then lashed out, the door closing with a defiant shriek against the wind. 

It was quieter inside, even with the wind rattling the windows, the house creaking in protest. One day the wind would tear the roof asunder and the rain would seep deep into the roots of the house.

When he called out Florian’s name, he received no reply. Johann resisted the urge to growl. Florian seldom answered when he was called, usually when he felt it was of some benefit to himself. Further compounding the pointlessness of the errand. Johann may brush off the cold and ice and wind but. He didn’t like being played with. He shrugged his shoulders, letting his sodden and bloody coat fall with a wet slop to the ground. 

He could deal with the coat in the morning; if Elendhaven was still standing when the sun rose, if the storm ceased raging and sea quietened.

“Florian,” he called again, his voice bouncing off the ancient Leickenbloom walls. Oil paintings, illuminated by the jagged edges of lightning, leered down in judgement. He growled, lashing out and a Leickenbloom matriarch gawped at him, the painting flapping weakly across the middle, from some unseen draft.

The window… he jerked his head, as if a hound drawn by a scent. He steps grew lighter, his shoulders looser. The cold had wrapped around himself like an embrace.

He descended down the stairs, the stairs protesting under his weight, deeper into the depths of the house. The walls crooked from the weight of history and the long years of neglect. The darkness was thicker, velvet like. The windows smaller, and Johann’s eyes glittered like jet. 

The darkness seemed almost absolute when he noticed a warm, flickering light escaping into the hallway. He prowled closer, stride long and liquid, not careful if Florian or anyone else listening knew he was approaching. The air grew thick and - he paused, drawing the air deep into his lungs - smelled deeply of flowers.

Flowers, in Elendhaven, flared briefly short and dangerous lives during the brief summers. They dared not waste time on scent. Only hothouse flowers, imported from afar, glimpsed through glass windows smelled like how summer was told in stories. 

Johann stepped through the door, blinking at the rapid change in light. He had only been down here once or twice, when he first was taken in by Florian and stalked the hallways for the heir’s secrets.

The bathroom was seldom used. Great cobwebs hung across the walls, dust inches high, pushed to the edges. But the spiders had fled. A score or more of candles, good quality white wax, thick and thin, were scattered around the bathtub. In the bathtub, the steam fogging the filthy mirrors and one half moon of a window, Florian relaxed. White bubbles, cascading over the edge of the rim as he adjusted, lay deeply over his body.

Florian was lolling back, eyes half closed, a spark of malicious delight lighting him from within. A creamy glimpse of a shoulder, the thin line of his neck, five tiny toes peeking over the edge of the truly enormous tub. 

“Oh Johann,” Florian drawled, stretching languorously in the water, gentle waves lapping over the edges, “What took you so long?”

Johann stepped forward, a pointed smile taking over his face, walking the water that had once touched and caressed Florian’s naked flesh. He loomed over Florian, who watched him with with a jagged smile on his own face. His shadows stretched around Florain, darkening the pink flush of his flesh, warmed by the water. Johann leaned forward, fingers crooked and pale, clenching tightly at the edge of the tub, water dipping into the water.

Florian bit at his lip, the flesh blooming cherry red.

Johann reached slowly into the pocket of his trousers with his spare hand, eyes never leaving Florian’s face. 

“Your oil, my lord,” he murmured mockingly, holding out the glass flask, the thick yellow liquid gleaming potently under the warm candlelight.

“Now,” Florian said, moving mysteriously under the water, his shoulders straightening above the bubbles that diminished with every breath, “What could I possibly do with _that_?” The grin dark and eager on his face.

And Johann met it with his own.

He leaned over Florian, his great height shadowing golden Florian’s face, and trailed a pale and dirty finger along the rim of the tub. Florian watched him through heavy lidded eyes, as the dirt trailed languidly down the edge, marring the pristine surface and puncturing the crisp white bubbles.

“You’re filthy,” Florian said, in his most polished Elendhaven tones. Johann grinned and shook his head, the water hitting the walls with a sudden sound. 

“On your errand,” Johann reminded him, curling his fingers around the edge of the tub and leering close enough he could see the freckles that danced like a doomed couple across Florian’s nose. “Sending me out into that forsaken town.”

Florian’s lip curled and in that moment Johann felt stiff bands of force wrap around his wrists. He shuddered, as his feet slid across the wall and he slammed loudly against the wall. The sound rattled through the house, creaking and moaning in protest. Florian ignored it, standing with a steadying hand in the tub. His skin was a rosy hue, slick and gleaming, bubbles artfully cascading down his slender frame. At the base of his neck, his hair has been darkened to a tarnished bronze by the water, the cool blond arc of his hair dancing merrily in the candlelight as the wind shook the house and the storm thundered down.

“Too filthy for what I originally had in mind,” Florian said thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side. His pretty little prick, pink as his devilish tongue, jutted from his body. 

Johann writhed against the hidden bonds, not shaking when Florian stepped quickly over, and jerked his chin up. Johann saw stars at the back of his eyes and gasped when the bonds against him forced him to his knees. Unbidden, he moaned, rocking towards Florian.

“Now you should have thought of that before you trampled down here in your hulking boots and muddy shirts,” Florian said musingly, running his hand down Johann’s chest, fingers darting out to briefly twist his pebble hard nipples, the pain chasing down the pleasure like a fine whiskey. He grabbed at Johann’s cock crudely, fingers everywhere and nowhere important. Johann thrust forward into the fingers, but Florian had already removed his touch.

“You’re a filthy tease,” Johann spat out, his body arched like a finely tuned violin. Always and forever twisted to Florian.

“Such an impolite mouth,” Florian murmured. “The only thing that mouth is good for is a good cock fucking.”

He palmed his cock, the head disappearing under long, white fingers. He watched Johann dispassionately, as Johann arched against the invisible bonds, his dick scraping at the rough weave of his trousers, the wet fabric clinging to his thighs.

“Open up,” he ordered, and Johann opened his mouth, the only force lashing his wrists against the wall. Florian was wet and hot, slick from the fragrant oils that must have been poured into the bath, stinking of some summer that Elendhaven would never experience. But underneath (always underneath) he could taste Florian.

Who would thrusting into his mouth, neat little jerks of his skinny hips, steady and regular. Johann opened his mouth, tilting his head back so Florian’s next thrust went deeper, his cock sliding down Johann’s throat.

Florian gasped and Johann watched him greedily. There was a dark flush in his cheeks, his eyes half closed, his mouth being ravished by his pinpoint sharp teeth. And Johann longed. Longed to ravage Florian’s lips til they were raw and red. He flexed his fingers, but the bonds held fast.

He devoured Florian, mouth and lips and teeth, bringing him to the edge. And then he spat him out, nuzzling at Florian’s thigh, nipping at the flesh there, the kiss-bite would darken to bruises by the morning, Johann thought with satisfaction. Above him, Florian shivered and shook with his almost completion, Florian struggling to bring his face and body under his control again. When he was almost there, about to open his mouth to say something sharp and cruel and cutting, Johann took Florian’s hard and spit-wet cock back into his mouth.

Within moments, Florian was jerking, his eyes squeezed shut, great white lashes stroking Johann’s face. He shook, his knees shaking, reaching out to steady himself on Johann’s shoulder. Then his fingers turned cruel, gripping at his hair, and drawing him up off his knees. 

His cock ached in his trousers, weeping misery. Florian’s pleasure slipped off his face, down the sharp point of his chin. Florian lifted his knee up, grinding against his cock, pleasure mined with pain and Johann shook, the only thing holding up was Florian’s bonds on his wrists. 

“Could you,” Florian started, hand on his shoulder, sweet foot pressing against his cock, “Could you come like this?” His breath warm and wicked on Johann’s ear.

Johann opened his mouth, more leer than grin, his mouth stretched and pink from Florian’s pretty cock, now resting demurely against his thigh. Then Florian kissed Johann, more teeth than tender caress, tongue a wicked tease. And Johann answered him with a rush, a red haze over his eyes, blood on his lips where he’d bitten them.

Florian leapt back, Johann’s blood on his lips, his cheek, his eyes aflame. Johann felt the bonds, implacable and immovable, release and he stretched his wrists, bending his neck. He stood, towering over Florian once more. Who grinned, and beckoned him to the bath, thighs still wet, the final suds on his toes.

And perhaps he wouldn’t have to wait until morning for the bruises to form, like blackberry stains on Florian’s lily white skin.


End file.
